Not for Ginny Lovers
by Callia Kmunkoe
Summary: Random, I'm warning you now. Misleading intro. Oh yeah I don't own H.P blabla everyone knows that already.


Harry Potter and the Jeweled Sword

By CALLIA KMUNKOE

A large silver tower stood quietly at the top of a grassy hill. It was nighttime, and the ivory stars were out, studded into a large indigo blanket that was the sky. The full moon perched happily at the top of the tower, its milky light dappling across the placid sea. This tower was not just a tower, but a lighthouse. And not just _a_ lighthouse, but _the_ Lighthouse. It peered down over a rough collection of rocks, which were becomer more damp as the sea beat upon it. The Lighthouse glowed in the glittering rays of the stars, and at the right angle, it seemed like it was made purely out of glass. Only a single pair of human eyes had ever rested on the sight of the Lighthouse, and that was how it kept its strange magic. Coming into the memory of a human was not an option for the Lighthouse. It had to stay out.  
A single owl glided through the autumn air, the wind ruffling its tired grey feathers. But he was almost at his destination. His emerald eyes felt unusually cold as it approached the majestic tower, and he longed for the moment when he could leave this place. Shivering, the owl's eyes locked uneasily upon the island he approached. His crusty claws clamped tightly around a yellowed scroll of parchment. It had been tied with a green silk bow, and he had been told that losing the bow would result in a severe punishment from his owner. Closer and closer the owl came towardsd the empty (or so it seemed) building. After what seemed like ages, he hovered over the Lighthouse's porch and dropped the scroll with relief. Something was strange about this Lighthouse, and he could not put a finger on it, if he had fingers, anyway.  
The owl gladly looped through the thin air with a feeling of freedom. The letter had been a heavy burden for him, as he was old and weary from his journey. His wings cut into the wind like a knife into butter, and he soared gleefully away from the Lighthouse.  
Behind him, a door opened. A gnarled hand untied the green silk that kept the letter into a scroll. A bell chimed.

When Harry James Potter, aged seventeen, woke up the next morning, he found that he was not in his own bed, but in a canary yellow bed with purple polka dots. He stared. Something was definitly wrong, but he couldn't quite understand what. Obviously he was not looking properly, as he was not wearing his glasses. He blinked, and things came into focus. Apparently, he was wearing his glasses. That was weird. Someone knocked on his door. But it wasn't even his door. It was a weird vomit-colour.  
"Harry, are you up yet?" Came the voice of a disgruntled-sounding Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend. "It's like two o'clock in the afternoon. Mum made tater tots." For some reason Harry completely forgot what a tater tot was.  
"What's a tater tot?" Harry screamed through the door.  
"Huh?"  
"I forget what a tater tot is!" Harry yelled.  
"They're mustard-filled balloons, obviously!" Ron yelled back with an exploded lung.  
"Why don't you just open the door?" Harry asked, in a quieter voice.  
"Duh, what do you think?" Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry couldn't see that through the door. "That stupid room makes me throw up, it's so ugly. So are you waking up yet, or what?"  
"Yeah, I'm waking up now," Harry said, flinging back the bed covers. He was already wearing his everyday clothes, and his large red clown shoes. Not bothering to comb his hair, he trudged down the stairs and into the Weasley kitchen. Everyone was having breakfast.  
"Did everyone just get up?" Harry asked. The whole Weasley family (with the exception of Percy Weasley, as he was buried in the backyard, screaming) was sitting around the table, as well as Harry's other friend Hermione Granger, who was NOT his girlfriend.  
"No, but there's lots of pineapples, so we agreed to eating more breakfast," Hermione explained. Harry nodded.  
"That makes sense," he decided. "So how's Percy doing?"

"He's mad because he got mud in his mouth," Ron said, sounding really annoyed. "He never stops complaining. It's just this thing he's done since he was like, eight. Someday someone's going to stuff kumquats in him, I swear." Fred and George, the Weasley twins, nodded.  
"I mean, he could at least mature," Fred said, frowning. "It's so totally inconsiderate. I mean, he's like, what, twenty-one years old now? Isn't that right?"  
"I can't remember," George shrugged. "Mum, how many years older is Percy than Fred and I?" Mrs Weasley looked at him disapprovingly.  
"If Percy wishes not to eat mud, then that's his buisness," she said strictly. "Just leave him be, and if he makes too much noise, then fetch the kumquats. It's as simple as that."  
"But, _Mum_," Charlie Weasley, the second eldest Weasley kid, complained. "How are we going to stuff the kumquats in him if there's _too much mud_?" He smiled superiorly, as he knew he had won the argument.  
"Oh, go to work, Charlie, and stop being so silly," Mrs Weasley scolded.  
"Oh, Mum, you're so old-fashioned," Ginny Weasley, who was sixteen, said. She had said that in Harry's fourth year when Mrs Weasley was getting mad at her oldest child, Bill, for having long hair. Harry had found it very annoying and he wished someone would just stuff Ginny in a barrell of kumquats.  
"GINNY BE QUIET!" Bill yelled at his sister.  
"Yeah, honestly," Fred snorted.  
"If you keep this up, young lady, I'm firing you," Mr Weasley told Ginny sternly. Ginny made an angry huffy noise and glared at the ceiling.  
"It's not my fault," she screeched. "My sandals won't even fit."  
"So what?" Ron demanded. "None of my shoes fit, and so I think my feet start bleeding whenever I put shoes on, but I never whine." Ron was in a very bad mood already, and Ginny wasn't making it much better.  
"Ron, calm down," Hermione snapped at him, adjusting her bananas. Ron snorted, and then got a nose bleed so he had to excuse himself. Ginny let out a sigh of relief, glad that at least someone was on her side.  
"Thanks Hermio-" she began.  
"WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP I AM _CONCENTRATING_ HERE!" Hermione bellowed at Ginny, pounding the table. She spilled milk into George's cereal.  
"Hermione," George whined. "You got my cereal wet."  
"Then get a towel," Hermione stated the obvious solution.  
"Everyone relax," Harry said, trying to stop everyone from getting grumpy.  
"Oh yeah?" Charlie said angrily. "_How about the pizza dough_, then, huh Harry?" Harry gaped at him, wondering how he had found out about his secret.  
"What _about_ the pizza dough?" Harry asked Charlie coldly, trying not to show that he was extremely frightened. Ron re-arrived, holding a tissue to his nose to stop the flow of the blood. He sat down across from Hermione.  
"Knock-knock," Hermione said as soon as Ron sat down.  
"Who's there?" Ron asked in a muffled voice.  
"Ginny's-being-a-boob," Hermione continued.  
"Ginny's-being-a-boob who?" Ron said, shoveling a strawberry into his mouth. He noticed that, since his mouth and nose were both closed, he couldn't breathe, so he choked a bit and some spit landed on Ginny's index finger of her right hand.  
"EW!" Ginny screamed. Harry glared at her.  
"Mind your own buisness," he snapped. Ginny glared back at him.  
"Well, I wouldn't if you _would_," she said huffily.  
"Manners, Ginny," Mr Weasley reminded her. "Harry's a guest."  
"No!" Ginny screamed, flapping her arms like a seal. She grabbed the jug of milk and brought it crashing down on the floor. Lots of milk got in George's socks.  
"Ginny," George moaned. "You got milk in my socks."  
"I don't care!" Ginny shouted. "You all should have milk in your socks!" And with that, she ran angrily up the stairs to her room.  
"Well," said Mrs Weasley briskly. "Now that's enough of that." She ate some bacon.  
"Oh, I don't agree," said Hermione, alarmed, her brown eyes growing larger.  
"Of course," Bill snapped his fingers. "That's just it, isn't it!" He hopped on top of the table, his left foot squishing the tater tots. "THE MUPPETS! THE MUPPETS!" He let out a terrible roar and leapt off the table, and ran out the front door.  
"There's green stuff underneath my fingernails," Fred complained.

"Shouldn't we _do_ something about that?" Mr Weasley sighed and put down his newspaper.  
"I'm afraid it was Ginny," he said wearily.  
"Ginny?" Everyone said in horror. "That beast?"  
"Interest of the Carmen chase," Hermione nodded. "It's the world of wonder."  
"Just because your socks are ripe, doesn't mean the whole companies will," Ron snapped. "Honestly, Hermione, I never understand a word you say."  
"That proves to be wrong," Harry said, still trying to recover that Charlie knew about the pizza dough. "I mean, it can't have if?" Mrs Weasley nodded.  
"That's exactly the point, you know," she muttered. "I guess I better start the eggs." Harry shook his head in wonder.  
"Reckon not, huh," he said. INSIDE JOKE!  
"What the heckioo?" Fred asked.  
"All right, eveyone's excused," Mrs Weasley said. "But come back at quarter past three for eggs." Everyone stuck their heads in the porridge, in turn. Then they went off. Harry thought he had best discuss the problem with Ron and Hermione. But he didn't really want them to know about the pizza dough. The three of them went into the garden and sat on the sunny grass. When they sat down the grass was too full of sun so all their bottoms hurt.  
"So what's up?" Ron asked. Harry noticed that his nose had stopped bleeding. "What was Charlie talking about when he mentioned the pizza dough?" Harry was beginning to feel very embarrassed. It wasn't a usual topic they talked about.  
"Well, you know, what with all that fighting at the table today," he shrugged. "Charlie was a little confused." Hermione snorted. Harry turned to her in surprise. "What?"

"Oh, Harry, it's so obvious," she said evenly. Hermione'd always been the smart one, so Harry wilted a little in disappointment. She knew everything. "I mean, sorry, Harry, but everyone knows that your hair is really pizza dough." Harry froze, horror stricken. How could she have possibly found out? How did Charlie find out? "Sorry," Hermione said again, quietly. Ron looked at both of them in amazement.  
"Your hair?" He shouted. "IS PIZZA DOUGH!" Harry glared at him.  
"Well," he said. "Thanks a lot Cheekiew." Ron didn't look embarrassed for screaming Harry's secret. Instead, he tied his shoes in wonder. It was then when the three of them heard a eardrum-splitting scream that came from inside the house. Without thinking properly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione raced inside, following the scream up the stairs to Ginny's room.  
They burst through the door, and found that not only Ginny was there, but the Dark Lord Voldemort was there as well. (Voldemort was the guy who murdered Harry's parents James and Lily Potter, etc, etc, etc). Ginny's wrists were stapled to the wall, and her feet seemed to be nothing but bloody stumps.  
"Ew, gross," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.  
"Voldemort," Harry quacked. "What are you doing at this present moment?" Voldemort stared at Harry for a while, thinking.  
"Well," he said at last. "This child was being quite annoying, so I decided to cut her feet off." He stopped and stared again at Harry, as if expecting an answer to a question.  
"Oh," Harry said in puzzlement. "I just thought you'd rather kill me." Voldemort pushed away this statement with a wave of his hand.  
"I'm bored of you," he said. "Anyway, at least you don't look like a toadstool like this young lass."  
"Actually," Ron cut in. "He kind of does. Because in the fourth movie, you know, his hair looks like a mullet." Voldemort ignored him.  
"You're so immature," Hermione told Voldemort .  
"HARRY!" Ginny screamed. "RON! HERMIONE! HELP ME!" Ron looked at her like she was insane.  
"Well, you don't have to scream it," he said disgustedly.  
"Ron's right," Hermione said smoothly. "Inside voices, Ginny."  
"HAVE YOU ALL GONE CRAZY?" Ginny moaned. "I'M DYING HERE!"  
"Um, that's not my fault, is it now," Ron said.  
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BROTHER!" Ginny screeched.  
"You don't have to tell the whole world," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Does anyone else want a peach?" He added, as he turned to leave the room.  
"Oh, me," Hermione answered.  
"Oh, hey, Hermione," Voldemort said. "Would you like to join the forces of evil?"  
"DON'T ASK UNTIL AFTER LUNCH, STUPID!" Hermione yelled in his face.  
"What's your mom making for lunch, anyway?" Harry asked Ginny.  
"GET ME OUT OF THE WALL!" Ginny begged him. Harry's face screwed up in spite and anger.  
"Fine," he said coldly. "I just wanted to know what's for lunch." He burst into tears and ran screaming from the room. Ginny didn't understand why no one was helping her.  
"Hermione, please," she begged.  
"Keep your voice down to a dull roar," Hermione reminded her. A glob of spit came out of her mouth and landed in Ginny's hair. Ginny didn't notice though.  
"What are you doing?" Ginny cried. "Help me!" Ron came back holding a grape and handed it to Hermione.  
"There's no more peaches," he told her.  
"RON! AM I INVISIBLE? HELP ME!" Ginny screamed in anguish.  
"Yes, yes, fine, fine," Ron said vaguely. "ANYWAY, like I was saying before you so rudely interupted, all of the peaches are gone."  
"Well," Hermione sniffed. "That was very unconsiderate, because a grape is _obviously_ not a good subsitute for a peach." Ron let out an exasperated sigh.  
"SORRY, _GOSH_!" He huffed. "There's like no other fruits around here."  
"RON! HERMIONE! I'M DYING!" Ginny screeched.  
"OW!" Ron screamed back at her. "That was my EAR!"  
"You're so immature," Hermione told Ginny.  
"DADDY!" Ginny shouted.  
"Stop disturbing him!" Ron commanded angrily. "He's having a nap!"  
"MOMMY!"  
"She's buying your tampons," Hermione reminded her, rolling her eyes. "Geez."  
"I'm bored," Voldemort complained.  
"Do you want to play Quidditch?" Ron asked.  
"Okay," Voldemort said. "I want to be a Chaser."  
"Honestly," Hermione snorted. "You little boys. Hey, Ron, are there any more grapes?"  
"Probably," Ron shrugged. "Voldo, what type of broom do you have?"  
"The _Totally Rockin' Hip Thunderbolt Cool Broom Thingo 2009_," Voldemort answered.  
"I'M A TOMBOY AND I'M GOOD AT QUIDDITCH AND I'M THE COOL TOMBOY CHASER AND I'M TOUGH AND COOL!" Ginny bellowed. She barfed.  
"Ew, GROSS!" Hermione leapt aside and stepped on Ron's foot, but he didn't notice.  
"Where's Harry?" Ron asked.  
"He went to the hospital because he became anorexic, _remember?_" Hermione explained.  
"Excuse me, but I thought that we were going to play Quidditch," Voldemort said pipedly. "OMG, I totally have a bad singing voice."  
"What the butting poo?" Ron muttered. "Okay, let's go. Hermione you can be the referee person."  
"K," Hermione said.  
"BILL CHARLIE PERCY FRED GEORGE!" Ginny shouted. "HELP ME MY FEET HURT REAL BAD!"  
"Ginny, could you shut up for like five seconds?" Ron said in disappointment.  
"None of your brothers even like you, sheesh," Hermione said in disapproval.  
"I really gotta pee," Voldemort said.


End file.
